The Diego Diaries: Sulking to Gomorrah (dd8 480)
=0=On a shuttle heading toward more Class-A trouble
"One of these orns I'm turning you upside down and confiscating everything that falls out," Sunstreaker said as he eyeballed the little mech sitting across from him.
"Okay," Hercy said calmly, calmly enough that everyone's hackles rose on the back of their metaphorical necks.
=0=Prime and Company
They floated onward toward another ship that was high caste out the wazoo. There were moneyed and power folks in this bucket if the tattoos on the outside panned out. One never knew when one could get a good deal on a ship that someone else once owned before it was stolen and sold on the down low.
Like that.
They made it to the door, Prime rapped on the hatch with his big, big gun while everyone slid back in unconscious protection motivated by their still aching codpieces.
Ow.
"This is Optimus Prime. Open up and let us enter peacefully."
:Or what?: a highly educated voice said from inside.
"Or I may have to beat a tattoo on your helms," Prime said as he remembered human slang that he liked.
There was no reply.
Prime glanced at the others, then the mechs on the roof. "Suggestions?" he asked with a big grin. He was OBVIOUSLY having a good time bum leg or not.
"How about this?" a big mech who was a Wrecker in the old orns and didn't give two frags about 'duty-ing' in the 'ah-my'. This guy was probably made of maple syrup if truth be told. "How about we rip the hinges off this hatch, see … then we go in guns blazing and set the tone. At that point, we let the kids follow you and me, Prime, while we show these comedians where the rubber hits the road."
Prime stared at him deeply envious of his vocabulary, sense of self and all around awesomeness, then he glanced at the rest. They nodded as one, though they stared at the big mech with a sense of wonderment. "Well, I think that makes it unanimous. Please, Certify, do the honors."
Certify … real name … grinned. "Thanks, Prime. You're a gent," he said before he turned to the door and laid waste to it with his own big, big guns.
It would be stupendous to the kids and gratifying for the rest.
Prime on the other hand took a brief moment to visualize Paladin's face on the door before it disintegrated into nothingness.
Then everyone jumped into the hole with guns blazing while the kids waited their turn. While they did, Lon and Bezel would float in space holding hands.
=0=Prowl
He sat in a calm facade while inside he fumed like Vesuvius. Prime had been wounded. Primus only knew what was happening now. Other than that, things weren't too terrible. They had to open the temporary prison, the one with almost no amenities for the newcomers, almost all of them high caste rat bastards.
Yes, Prowl was so mad that he was swearing in Human.
Most of the Decepticons were either getting medical treatment for resisting or going straight into stage one prison. Stage one prison was that part of the lockup, the new one, where they would all begin. If they were salvageable they were kept there. If not they were booted upward to more permanent accommodations until they got a clue or died.
Whichever it was.
Prowl didn't care. At this moment he wanted ALL of them to die. He glanced at the humans noting a smirk on Lennox's face. :What's on your tiny little mind, Lennox? Inquiring minds and all …:
Lennox smirked broader. "How much of an ass whipping is Prime going to get when he comes back?"
Everyone in the gerbil cage stared at him as he stared back. The newbies were looking at him with some kind of strange expression which he chalked up to awe because he 'Was Prowl'™. The local humans were their usual bullshit selves. He wasn't sure most of the time which he liked better. However … having them just a smidge afraid of him all the time was useful overall. :I don't kiss and tell: he said boldly.
Lennox laughed. "And most people question if you have a sense of humor."
:Impertinent little twerps, you humans. I, Prowl am beyond such petty considerations. Are you needful of returning to your hamster hutch back on Mars or what?:
"No. We're fine," Lennox said.
Prowl stared at him a moment, then vented a sigh. :Too bad: He turned back to his work with the ghost of a smirk.
Lennox and the others who were getting to be experts at reading The Prowl™ snickered as the newbies stared at them. Lennox grinned. "Don't ever frag him off. You won't like it. That being said, there's few around who have as good a sense of humor or are as funny."
"The best part is Prowl mostly doesn't know it," Graham said as Epps nodded. "He's incredibly funny sometimes."
"Like not now," Epps said with a chuckle. "He's not now."
The others agreed as they watched the big handsome winger working on the problems among them.
"Did you know that Prowl can assess a battlefield that has hundreds and thousands of individuals, their stuff, their placement on the terrain, the directions of battle and all of it, then formulate a plan for each going seven different directions and assess of what they'll do. He can then design as many as seven or eight counter plans against, or for all of them. He can do that in less than seven seconds. He can show all their possibilities and how they mesh with everyone else in less than seven seconds," Graham said.
The newbies stared at him, then Prowl, then him again.
"WTF?"
"Dafuq? Really?" -all of them including Jackson Davis
"Really," Graham said. "He had a 'capture, not kill' order on him throughout the war. All of the senior Autobots did but Megatron tried as hard as he could to recruit, then capture Prowl. He's beyond, Our Prowl."
The newbies nodded as they watched him.
Prowl was watching them internally as he listened to the commentary which the three had cut him into. He grinned slightly. :Six seconds, slaggers: he said through the 'off line' to the three soldiers.
The newbies would never know why the three laughed so hard. They wouldn't notice the ear pieces that Lennox, Graham and Epps put in when they arrived that would allow them to hear, send and receive messages with the bots that only they could share.
It was combat gear. They might never see it, the newbies, or they might work out and it'd be part of their kit. Such was the wonder of Cybertronian technology.
=0=Speaking of
"Hercy has tech that keeps him from being nulled," Sideswipe said to Ratchet who was on the monitor nearby.
Ratchet glanced at Hercy. :You still have that?:
Hercy nodded. "I have a lot. Dynamite comes in small packages."
Huge laughter greeted that.
:You might cut Wheeljack and Percy in on it," Ratchet said. "Tell Prime that Granny will cut him up when he comes back if he gets shot one more time:
"Done deal," Sunstreaker said as they made their way to the next ship. "Dibs on the first one that's made."
=0=Port of Mars: Autobot City, Mars
They came in streams from ships that were coming through the bridges and falling into orbits around the planet. Coming down through small bridges on the ground just for this purpose at the Port, hundreds, then thousands of refugees trudged wearily forward.
They were greeted and helped along, handed energon, had their tags checked and rechecked, chatted with officials and each other as they edged ever forward to freedom. They were weary, some angry, others mental and most exhausted. The confrontation in the migration at the door to The Promised Land was almost too much for most of them. They were weary and wanted to lie down.
Partition who was security and medical walked among them with Lancer. They helped the children and elders, his specialty as a second year medical student at the University. Babies were examined and exclaimed over, elders assisted, carried and checked over as their families watched with anxiety. Beyond the entry gates out of the building in the back where they were heading for, buses and vans waited, filled up and/or drove away or back to the facility. Professionals would take them to their new homes now, it was such a streamlined process.
The stars twinkled overhead, new stars for a new homeland as the people stepped ever closer. Elation about Cybertron, anxiety for the migration and hopefulness for their new homes made the waiting easy and terrible at the same time.
It would be nice when the light of day returned.
=0=Inside
Prime pressed against a bulkhead as a melee brawl went on in the cramped space of the lounge where both sides had collided. A number of well made and skilled mechs were 'taking the piss' out of a number of well made and skilled Autobot soldiers as the British say. He was considering capping a few rounds but worried that the ricochet would kill someone. Instead, he leaned against the bulkhead and watched the fun.
Sometimes it was good to be Prime.
=0=Elsewhere
They signed off their face time and headed for bed. Things were late and even though school was going onward the path ahead was filled with activity and amazing new experiences.
Coros had gone to the offices that were his at the Delegate Assembly and met his staff who were chosen with the assistance of his family who knew about staffing this sort of thing. His family were in politics on Cybertron. His ada would be his chief of staff, handling the daily business of calls and such when he was in school.
Sil and Jessine would be his advisors along with the usual fifteen kids who helped him get their groups started. That group now included Barrett Walker who was the new and only human member of the Youth Council, a colony-wide advisory group that handled affairs involving kids including the Youth Court and advised the Prime and the Senior Autobot-Community Leadership Group for all things kids.
He was still reeling over that.
Among his group were several newly elected members of various advisory boards around the colony. Sil was part of an advisory board that worked on senior issues. Pulley won a seat on the Parks and Recreation Board. Faun was on the Land Use Advisory Board that helped Beachcomber care for the land and its systems. No one could dig a hole that didn't pass muster with Beachcomber and this board.
It was celebratory amongst them as they worked out how they would help each other. Coros may have won the biggest prize, the School Board seat and the Delegate Assembly, but all of them were considered important to the kids.
Tomorrow, they would spend their study hall working out their duties through the data packages each had received for their positions. It would be an incredibly uplifting thing to see kids sitting in the library talking about what they were going to do to help the colony and its people. Their mentors would be very, very pleased.
=0=Elsewhere
He walked home with a frown. Falling out with his mech had been a slagging bummer but things happened. He'd find a new one. Gravity walked down the street, then entered his tower, the one where he lived by himself. He was working in an electronics firm, a private one developed by former high castes.
His dumped mech who was steaming was also plotting revenge. No one cheated on him and walked away intact. As he sat in front of his computer, he hit the encrypted codes that would add extra security to what he was writing. He had an anonymous crime tipline form open and was telling the tale as was told to him.
Gravity had shot a mech, someone named Tempo. Gravity would pay.
=0=TBC 7-19-2022 8-12-2022
ESL
hackles: when a dog gets alert or wants to fight, the hair on the back of their necks rises up. That's what hackles are.
Made of maple syrup: a New Englander in America. They have problems pronouncing their 'R's. Regional accents. New England produces maple syrup in America. :D Try frying bacon with maple syrup on it. OMG.
